


I Wouldn't Have Even Mentioned It

by DuncanByrne



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anxiety, Bonding, Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e04 The Enemy Within (Star Trek), F/F, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trek Women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 18:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13618797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuncanByrne/pseuds/DuncanByrne
Summary: The rape attempt of Kirk’s evil transporter duplicate deeply shakes Janice Rand, but little does she expect her best friend Nyota to comfort her when she needs it the most. Based on the episode "The Enemy Within."





	I Wouldn't Have Even Mentioned It

I don’t know if I can stand looking him in the eye again. I have no idea why it happened.

I step into my bathroom for a sonic shower, but even though I should be relaxing in my little steam room, I still can’t take my eyes off the bruises on my arms: ugly red-purple splotches clustered on the spots where his fingers dug into my skin--the spot where his fingers ruined me, claimed me, ripped at me like a knife through a white canvas, gnashing and grabbing and clawing at me like an animal rabid with hunger. I step out and place an empty picture on my easel to paint a sunset or a beach or anything that will take my mind off things. I dab my paintbrush in pink paint and lift it towards the white, but it darkens and turns a horrible blood red--when I swipe it across my canvas to begin the soft peach glow of a sunset, it swirls into a bloody streak. I blink, and it becomes pink again. I shudder. God. Nothing will help. Everything, everything reminds me of...it. Fuck it. I better just get to my shift. 

This time, when I put on my same uniform as usual, I tug down my skirt. Will it go down no further? Even after I pull it down as much as it can possibly go it leaves my thighs naked, displayed for the prying eyes of every horny cadet on the Enterprise. My V-neck cuts down too low, my uniform clings to the curve of my waist too tightly, even my woven hair attracts too much attention. But I’m not going to change it all of a sudden and request a plain uniform shirt with pants from the ship’s store, draw my hair back into a plain ponytail. Then everyone will notice. Then everyone will know something’s wrong with me. Nobody will think I’m beautiful anymore. But then again, maybe that would be a relief.

When I finally leave the safe haven of my quarters and report for duty, I squint in disgust, trying to blot the image out of my sight: a young ensign is already leering at my chest and my legs, looking me boldly in the eye with that smarmy look of possession, that look of “If I could just get my hands on you…” I hurry down the hall to the turbolift. But right before I can press the button to summon my transport up to the bridge, a thought freezes me in place:

Jim will be on the bridge. If I report for duty, I will be around him for hours. And if I am alone with him just one more time, what will stop him from doing it again?

I can’t do it. I just can’t do it. No fucking way. He’ll grab me again. And if I can’t reach a console this time, god knows what he’ll do.

I step into the turbolift.

“Sickbay.”

But it’s all wrong when I shyly report what happened. Christine is silent and then leaves. McCoy frowns, pacing around the room like he’s trying to envision his best friend attacking a woman, but he just can’t. I stand there, amazed at his discomfort. How can he second guess helping me when I’m standing right in front of him? But I’m numb when he brings Jim and Spock to question me all at the same time: my attacker leaning forward into my face, speaking softly and asking me questions like he’s some innocent bystander. Spock stares me down as if he thinks my emotions are to blame for Kirk’s crime. Like he thinks I shouldn’t’ve been scared when my own “boyfriend” busted into my room and shoved me onto the floor and pinned my hands down and shoved all of his weight onto me until I was a trapped animal! Doctor McCoy shifts his feet and glances away while I tell them. I know he’s embarrassed to be talking about this. And none of them know that feeling, that feeling women have from years of working alongside men.

By the time the interrogation is over, I know all I’ve accomplished is embarrass myself in front of two senior officers who’d rather transfer to a different starship than put their captain through a court martial. Nobody cares. This must happen all the time. 

Once the three have left, I adjust my hair in the Sickbay mirror one more time and dash towards the door to resume my shift, ready to rush past the men loitering in the halls and hope they don’t pounce on me when they see my hips swaying back and forth in my walk or hear the click of me boot heels on the floor as I totter over to the turbolift. But when the door swooshes open, Lieutenant Uhura stops in her tracks, a little pink lily in her hand.

“Oh my God, Jan, you startled me! Are you alright? I was just coming to talk to you!”

“Oh, um, well actually I was just going to go back to my shift now.”

But my brave face doesn’t last. I sniffle and have to wipe the wetness out of my left eye.

“Oh no, this is not the time to go back on duty. I heard what Christine said about the captain. Come on, can we sit down for a minute? I want you to calm down.”

She looks me in the eye while her hand gently cups my arm. Her sweet black eyes look sad, like she feels every ounce of my pain. She looks earnest, like she won’t make me do anything I don’t want to.

“I can’t stay! I mean, what if the captain notices I’m not on the bridge? I should contact another yeoman to take my shift!”

“Honey,” she stops me, “It’s not that important. Just stay here right now.”

I’m surprised at the term of endearment from Nyota, but oddly enough, it feels like she really means it, like she really does want me to calm down.

“Ok, I’ll wait a minute. But can you--”

“I’ll take care of everything, ok? You just sit down.” She leads me into a private room, sits me down on the silky midnight blue sheets of the sickbay bed, and closes the door behind her as she tiptoes towards me and sits down at my side as I stare down into my lap, my face hot. 

“Janice, I just want to start by saying that you don’t have to feel ashamed of anything.”

Yeah right. Like the whole ship won’t know about the captain’s cold fish yeoman by tomorrow. I don’t budge.

“I also want to say that I completely believe you.” She pauses, and then she lays her arm around my tight shoulders and looks at my face, trying to make eye contact. “And not only that, but I want you to know that if you need someone to be there for you or you just want to ask a favor, I’m here. I promise you that.”

Such simple support. Short and sweet. My shoulders relax just a bit. I look her in the eye right back, knowing how I probably look like a burned out chunk of Dilithium. She returns my stare like she can’t see the tears starting to ooze down my cheeks and drip off of my chin, smearing my mascara, making my face shine like a greased potato--or maybe she just doesn’t mind. 

“No honey, it’ll be ok!” 

She dabs at my wet cheeks with her sleeve. 

“No it won’t,” I whisper. 

“Can you say that a little louder? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“No!” I yell. She flinches and casts her eyes down. Oh god. Why did I do that? 

“Sorry. I just felt...no, I’m sorry. That was not ok at all.” I’m such a fuckup. Why is she still listening to me? 

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I know how hard this must be for you,” Her tone is quieter, softer, her voice more breathy. “I promise you it’ll be ok.” 

Why? Why is she still here listening to my sob story of how I fucked up again? What does she see in me? 

“What makes you think it’ll be ok, huh?” I demand, my voice shaking. “He uses me and abuses me and pretends like he didn’t do anything, and then the next day I have to pick myself back up, paint on my pretty girl smile, and get back on the bridge for all the men to ogle. Easy for him to ignore when he’s the most powerful person on board. Well, I can tell you this. Nobody believes me and nobody actually cares about me!” 

I finish my rant, choking out sobs. In a way, it hurts to see the sadness on Nyota’s face when she hears complaint after complaint tumble down. But she pauses like she’s getting a hold of herself and puts a firm hand on my shoulder. 

“Listen, Jan, listen to me closely. You need to know. You just have to know that I care! I care about you! And I believe what you say precisely because I care! I don’t care what the captain says, or what the doctor or Spock or any man onboard says. Your feelings matter, they are real, and I will help you through it, ok?” 

She slides her hands to my back and stares at me, her eyes fiery.

“Do you understand me? I love you! Janice, I love you so much I will help you get through this. Ok?” 

Suddenly she pulls me into a hug--she’s clasping me tight, her warmth touching my frigid skin, her fingers gently resting on my back--our bodies are sealed as she rocks me gently on the bead. I collapse my wet face onto her shoulder. She strokes through my hair, gently tracing it, thumbing the blonde strands; I feel the calm rise and fall of her soft chest against mine as she breathes slowly; I close my eyes and clear my mind: she’s with me now, she feels so good, and it almost erases the traumas of a few hours ago from my head. I pull away from the hug and give her a pathetic attempt at a smile. 

She presses her lily into my hands. “Jan, you don’t need to fake it.” 

But I’m not faking this. I give her a genuine smile and kiss her on her soft cheek impulsively. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I mean it. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave feedback.


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